


Crawford Street Conscience

by Hello_Spikey



Category: Angel: the Series, Buffy the Vampire Slayer (TV)
Genre: M/M, Season/Series 02, Souled Spike (BtVS), Time Travel
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2007-11-12
Updated: 2007-11-23
Packaged: 2019-06-12 07:53:29
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 3
Words: 9,893
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15335307
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Hello_Spikey/pseuds/Hello_Spikey
Summary: A heedless wish to a member of Wolfram & Hart's steno pool lands AtS S5 Spike back in his BtVS S2 wheelchair.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * For [sevendeadlyfun](https://archiveofourown.org/users/sevendeadlyfun/gifts).



> My first threesome. As promised, another FmK request. This will be a two parter. This first part... not so porny. Sorry. But next part, I promise! THREESOME! (It is still Threesome month, yes? :D)

Spike should have known better than to try and make friendly with the steno pool at Wolfram and Hart. (But come on – they couldn’t ALL be evil. Hadn’t Lorne regaled him with tales of chorus-line horror, screening all the employees?)

She’d said something about being in the greed business and then something about granting wishes, but Spike had been watching her breasts more than her lips, so when she pushed them out at him and pouted and said, “Isn’t there anything you want?” he just grinned and said, “I think you know, luv.”

She slapped his hands away. “No, silly. I mean in life, in general. What do you want to do?”

“I dunno. Save the day. Be the hero.”

“Is that all? You must want something a little selfish. If you happened,” she ran a hand across her cleavage, smiling as his face jumped in reaction, “to have a wish demon at your disposal, and could get anything at all, even if it wasn’t what you’d call ‘possible’, what would it be?”

“I suppose I’d like to go back in time… back before my life got screwed up, you know? Or maybe,” he laughed, raising his glass, “Wish you could take me to right after Buffy breaks up with The Immortal.”

The bird said “all right” or “granted” or something like that, (it was loud in the club, all right?) There had followed much more pleasant portions of the evening, with drinking, dancing, and a long, serious snog in the entryway to her apartment.

So it surprised him a bit, waking up alone. Waking up… sitting. And in a dark room that smelled of mildew and dust. He shifted and felt the chair he was in move. It squeaked. He looked down. Wheels. Oh no. His eyes widened, suddenly recognizing the step-and-block art deco walls, the grimy parquet. Almost shaking with fear, he tried to move his legs.

They moved. He sagged back with relief then jumped to his feet. “Sodding hell you stupid bint. I said after she breaks up with THE immortal, not AN immortal!” He ran his hands over his hair. “Wish. Never bleedin’ say the “w” word.”

“Christ. Christ in a sodden’ bucket. I’ve bollixed it this time. Can’t keep my gob shut. Now I’m…” he paused, felt his chest, his heart. Soul? Was it still there? Like touching a sore tooth with his tongue, he tentatively turned his thoughts to killing. That little co-ed he’d thought about so often, his last kill before the chip…

Guilt rushed him like a stab of pain. Soul. Check.

But when was this? How soon after the move to the mansion? Was he healed, or had he brought working legs back with him just like the soul? He flicked through the contents of the dresser, looking for clues.

The door to his room burst open with a peal of laughter. He turned to see Drusilla hanging on Angelus’ arm.

“Oh, bugger.”

“William! You’re up!” Angelus kicked the wheel chair out of the way. “Isn’t this unexpected?” He turned to Drusilla. “You’ve been doing a better job looking after our boy than I thought.”

“I’m a very good mummy,” Dru said with a proud tilt of her head.

Spike felt every ounce of blood drain from his face. “Um… yeah. Good work, Dru.” He looked hurriedly away. “Give us a ‘mo, yeah? Want to change my clothes. Been… been sitting in these a while, haven’t I?”

“Something’s wrong,” Drusilla said, her voice pitched with worry. She put a hand to her lips and whimpered.

Angelus stepped into Spike’s personal space. “We didn’t interrupt anything, did we, boy? You aren’t planning anything, are you?”

“Plan? Me? Please!” Spike laughed unconvincingly. “Aren’t you the one with the, uh, plans? Yeah… have you cracked that little slayer yet?”

Oh so too softly, Angelus ran a hand over Spike’s shoulder. “Is that what you want me to do, William?”

Drusilla giggled. “The master-general shall have no tea today!”

Which, in Dru speak, meant “Goody! I get to watch a beating!” Spike closed his eyes and tried to consider his options carefully. Unfortunately, the part of his brain usually used to concoct plans was gibbering on the floor, crying “We have to stop Acathla! We have to get to the slayer! How could you bollix it up so fast?”

Spike cleared his throat. “Uh… well, yeah, I just want what you want. Revenge, yeah? Bloody bitch put me in a wheelchair, didn’t she?”

The plan-center woke up. “In fact,” Spike turned to face his sire, soaking up a little confidence. He wasn’t the fledge who’d never defeated the Great Angelus before. He was the winner of the Mountain Fuckin’ Dew. “I think I’ll go out there right now, pay the golden girl a visit. Let her in on her big mistake – leaving me alive. I’ll kill her right and proper for you. Make her beg.”

He could tell by the tilt of his head that Angelus was almost falling for it. But the big oaf shook his head. “You had your chance to defeat the Slayer. You failed.”

“I was busy getting Dru fixed up. Attention divided. Now, you’re here, all soulless and charming, and you can keep a good eye on her while I go slaughter the slayer.”

Angelus’ eyes narrowed to black slits. “You. Want me. To keep an eye on Dru for you?”

Spike’s mind seized again, nothing coming into it but cuss words. “Well, not if you make it sound all dirty like that.” The dresser trembled as Spike backed into it.

Angelus suddenly grabbed Spike’s neck. Spike gasped and tensed for the fight, but the grip gentled. Angelus patted his cheek. “Dru, honey? Keep an eye on William. Don’t let him go anywhere. I don’t think he’s quite well yet.”

Drusilla walked her fingers up Spike’s arm and rested her head on his shoulder. Spike looked at Angelus’ smug grin and knew his discomfort was clear on his face.

And then he was alone. With Drusilla. The familiar scent of her hair lying on his shoulder. He let himself lean back against the dresser, holding her in his arms a moment. She felt smaller than he remembered, frailer. Cooler. He kissed the top of her head.

And the reprieve ended there. Like a startled cat, she tensed and jumped back, eyes wide.

Remembering that some could see the soul in eyes, he avoided her gaze. “Everything’s all right, luv. Let’s go for a hunt. Been cooped up here too long.”

Drusilla screamed and leapt at him, fingernails first. He barely had a chance to slip out of the way and she was on him, clawing, shrieking. “No! No! You took him!”

“Pet…” He grabbed her wrists, rolled to pin her. She writhed and whined. “Pet. It’s still me, yeah? Still the man you met over a century ago.”

“It’s wrong. It’s all wrong!” Tears streamed out of Dru’s eyes, her hair clinging to damp cheeks. “Bring him back. Make him mine again!”

Spike looked wistfully at her for a moment. “Sorry, luv,” he said, and released her long enough to punch her square in the jaw.

He got a good gouge taken out of his chest from her nails, but she lay limp before him, wet lashes closed against her cheeks. He kissed her forehead and gathered her up. The chains were, of course, still on the bed. Did they ever take them off?

Drusilla secured, he hurried to the door, only to find it jammed tight, locked from the other side.

He kicked it. “Could Frank Lloyd WRONG have used some flimsier doors, here?” He pushed aside some decorative drapes on the wall. There were no windows. “What if there was a fire? An earthquake? Don’t they have bloody safety codes in this country?”

There were no other chairs in the room so he was forced to take a seat in the wheelchair, where he waited. Waited for Drusilla to wake and fill the air with howls and rants, waited for Angelus to return and discover how very wrong things had gotten indeed.

It was okay. Dru was secured. He just had to fight past Angelus, find Buffy, give her a heads-up on the Acathla thing, then find Anya. Was Anya around yet? Okay, if no vengeance demon could be found, the watcher would at least have a clue…

He sank his head in his hands. He was doomed.

The sound of the door kicking in woke Spike from a sound sleep. He’d moved the wheelchair next to the bed and rested his head on the coverlet. Dru had been quiescent since she woke up last time. Chains always did calm her down.

Angelus strode into the room with some poor sod in a half nelson. “Been thinking about what you said, Willy my boy. You’re right, I’ve wasted too much time on the Slayer. That… that was the SOUL’s obsession. Time to start on something new.” Angelus threw the boy he was manhandling along onto the bed. Drusilla awoke with a squeal of glee. Spike staggered back, looking down at very scared, trying to be defiant, brown eyes.

“Xander?”

Angelus closed the door behind him and shrugged out of his coat. “The slayer’s bestest friend.” He shrugged. “I don’t give up any obsession entirely. And since you were so keen on me taking over your duties with Drusilla,” here Angelus sat down on the side of the bed and stroked Dru’s forehead. Dru growled and tried to bite him, smiling all the while. “Well, I thought maybe it was time to explore more masculine pursuits.”

Spike shook his head. “All I had to say was ‘don’t stalk the slayer’ and you woulda gone ahead and done it, wouldn’t you?”

Xander looked from Spike to Angelus, then down at Drusilla, who was wriggling her hips eagerly, trying to get closer to him. “Oh god.” Xander tried to crawl off the bottom of the bed. Angelus grabbed him by the scruff of his neck and pushed him down again.

“What’s the matter, Spike? You look a little green. You liked Xan well enough when I offered him to you last time. Remember that? Oh, even with the soul, I tell you, I really wanted to see you rip his neck out.”

Angelus got fed up with Xander’s repeated attempts at escape and snatched the boy up, hugging him to his chest. “He’s a peach, isn’t he? Young and full of life.”

Xander was breathing rapidly, and Spike could see Angelus savor the aroma of fear. FUCK. Now he had to save Xander. “Um… so you gonna kill him, then?”

Angelus nuzzled Xander’s cheek, much to the boy’s wide-eyed terror. “Eventually,” he said. “After he loves me.”

“Pretty boy… soft and hard,” Dru said, licking her lips. “Let’s have a taste?”

Angelus obligingly pushed Xander down toward Dru’s eager smile.

“Wait!” Spike leapt forward, grabbing Xander’s arm. “Wait… no tasting yet, yeah? Um… isn’t it too early?”

Drusilla hissed. “Not Spike! Golden heart! Get away! Daddy! Take it away!”

“I don’t know WHAT she’s on about,” Spike added, as casually as he could. He tried to pull Xander gently out of Angelus’ grip.

Angelus frowned. “What would you have us do first, William? It’s your day, after all, graduating from the special needs class.”

Spike blinked, and shrugged. “Well, I’d like to have him alone.”

“Just what I always wanted,” Xander quipped, “to be the center of a vampire tug-of-Xander. Hey, here’s a thought, guys? Let me go?”

Angelus smiled proudly and let his hand run down Xander’s arm to where Spike was gripping it. “We’re FAMILY. We should share.”

“Yes. Great idea. How ‘bout we lock the pup down; I’ll go into town and scare us up some treats, and then we’ll have a night of it? No one gets to sample the nummy treat ‘til I get back.”

Angelus rolled his head back, unmoving. “No, I think we make a night of it, first. Then you go to town.”

“Bollocks, Angelus. I haven’t eaten.”

“I know that’s not true, boy. You’re standing, aren’t you?”

“And now I want to go out.”

“It’s morning.”

“There’s a sewer access not five feet from the garden door.”

Xander laughed humorlessly. “I think you two should really explore this issue. Take your time. Eep!”

This last said as Angelus hauled Xander up by his hair. “We’ll go into the master suite,” Angelus said, softly, “And make Alexander here welcome. Then you can do whatever the hell you want, Spike; I really don’t care.”

Drusilla cried in protest. “Sorry, baby,” Angelus blew her a kiss, “Daddy’s got work to do.”

Angelus wrenched Xander fully out of Spike’s grip and carried him, kicking, over his shoulder.

Spike followed, looking wistfully at the large front doors to the mansion as they passed through the foyer. Sunshine drifted in, diluted by dirty glass. Xander’s cries for help and ineffective blows echoed in the empty space. Okay, all he had to do was wait for the bloody sadist’s guard to be down. Grab Xander and make a run for the doors, push the lad into the sunlight. Then… beat Angelus. Cross town in broad daylight. Get the slayer to listen to him when she, at this point in time, wants him dust. Easy.

Spike walked into the master suite expecting to see Angelus in the process of binding Xander to the bed. He did not expect to find Xander out cold on the floor and Angelus standing behind the door, swinging both his fists together into the back of Spike’s head.

His last coherent thought was, “Oh. Bugger.”

He awoke with the familiar feel of iron around his wrists, though he wasn’t on the bed, he was on the floor, his body twisted uncomfortably. He opened his eyes. He was naked. He was attached by the wrists to the bottom-left post of Angelus’ bed. Angelus sat over him, smoking.

“Did you really think I wouldn’t notice?” Angelus said, flicking ashes toward Spike.

Spike shifted his weight, trying to dodge cigarette ash and straighten his spine. He saw Xander, then, still out, arms spread out against the headboard in the traditional manner. His chest was bare and Spike was sure he was naked too. Angelus never did like wasting time on clothes. “Notice?” Spike coughed. “Notice what?” Spike slid his arms up into the cuffs, feeling how much give he had. “I’ve been stuck in this mansion for… well, I don’t know how long. But I have. What could I possibly…”

“The soul, William.” Angelus growled impatiently. “You. Have a soul.”

“It’s not… I uh… that is… How do you bleedin’ wankers just KNOW that?” He jerked on the chains. “Look… it’s not… it’s not a problem, yeah?”

“No. It won’t be. I’m going to break you from it, for your own good. I’ll do what Darla should have done for me.”

Spike stared, not detecting any mirth or sarcasm in his grand-sire’s face. “My god, you are a couple pancakes short of a stack. Soul’s not some kind of bad habit you can tough-love out of a bloke.”

“It’s good we caught it early. No doubt you’re feeling confused, William. Having strange, unnatural urges. You don’t have to give in to them. I’m here to help you.”

“’Caught it early’? It’s not a disease, ‘Gelus! Anyway, I have it under control, yeah? Just let me go and I’ll show you. We’ll go kill the slayer, me and you, right now.”

Angelus pitched his spent butt across the room and sighed. “Is an obsession with the slayer some kind of side-effect? Or are you trying to mock me, boy?”

At this last Angelus stood and undid his belt. “I know what you’re thinking, boy. The guilt. These voices telling you maybe all those people you ate had as much right to live as you – maybe even more. It’s lies. Soon as you realize that, you can stop feeling worthless, stop making stupid mistakes, and start living again.” He drew the belt out and wrapped it double in his palm. “You’ll thank me for this later.”

Spike licked his lips, turning as best he could to keep himself squared to Angelus. “Cards on the table. I’ll do whatever you want; just let the boy go.”

“See, it’s thinking like that we have to stop.” Angelus dragged his belt down Spike’s face. “Get up. On the bed.”

“I’m not doing a damn thing you say. All I have to do is wait. The witch’ll have your soul back in you soon enough.”

“I think she MISSED, Spike. Or did you find a soul under the dresser?” Angelus brought the belt down hard on Spike’s bare chest and smiled. “Up with you.”

“Go to hell.”

“Spike, lad, I’m only going to ask one more time. And then the whelp gets it. Oh!” He smiled. “See? I know how the soul thinks. Are you going to let me hurt the boy while you watch, or are you going to get up on the bed and bend over for your sire?”

Spike considered, not for the first time that hour, how very little he actually LIKED Xander. But he turned and crawled onto the bed. There was actually more slack on the chains once he was up there, as they attached high on the post. He knelt at the foot of the bed, watching Angelus warily.

“Now step through your hands, get them behind your back.”

Spike scowled. His arms were still angled upward. “You expect me to levitate?”

“You can do it, Spike. You’re very flexible.” Angelus sat at the head of the bed, looping one arm around Xander’s shoulders. He petted the unconscious boy’s hair.

Time, Spike reminded himself. He had to eat up time. Willow DID eventually figure out the spell to shove Angel’s poufy soul back into him. He hooked his elbow on the footboard and tried to lever himself up even with the attachment point for his chains.

He tried not to think how he looked, bending and turning all starkers, his bits dangling as he brought a knee up and stepped through his own hands. It was not a position that could ever be made graceful.

He almost wrenched his shoulder out of joint twice, and there was a horrible, long point where everything hurt and he couldn’t move in any direction at all, but then it passed, he slipped through and fell to his knees again, arms comfortably behind him. Gasping for unneeded breath, he glared at Angelus. “Could have chained me like this in the first place, git.”

Angelus hummed. He pressed a kiss to Xander’s forehead. “Call for me when the whelp wakes up,” he said, and swung his legs off the bed. “Oh, Spike? Fail to do so immediately, and he dies.”

Fuck. Spike was left watching Xander’s misleadingly peaceful face, listening to Angelus’ footsteps return to the room Spike and Drusilla shared.

Hearing Angelus fuck Dru didn’t hurt like it once had. If anything, he just felt a little sick, and hoped the old bastard would take his time about it.

“Xander,” he said, “you take your time too. Make it 80 winks, yeah? For your old pal Spike?”


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If you were looking for a deep, insightful plot... eh, not so much. It's just plain porn, kids... and oy was it hard to write! Lining three bodies up and all... yeah. I hope it doesn't disappoint! I didn't know how to end it, so I just sorta... ended it. Anyway, you've been warned: I'm not happy with this piece.

Xander started to shift. His heart rate was lifting, his breathing coming less regular. Spike knew Angelus could be listening, and know as soon as Spike did that Xander was awake. Still, he’d done some figuring, and decided he could have three seconds. Every bit of time could be the key to surviving this. If only he knew how close Red was to getting the soul back!  
  
Xander’s brow creased, his eyelids tightened, and then he was blinking them open. Three. Two. One.  
  
Spike drew in a slow breath. “Sorry mate,” he muttered, then shouted, “Angelus! He’s up!”  
  
Xander came fully awake then, trying to sit up and discovering the chains. He struggled and gasped. “You!” He glared at Spike. “You were supposed to be dead!”  
  
“Yeah. Lucky me,” Spike said. “Keep your voice down. Don’t struggle, all right? Just makes him happier. Try not to cry or scream, too.”  
  
“You peroxided freak! You try not to scream!”  
  
“Would you be quiet, you git, and realize I’m chained up here too? God, Harris, you are so thick! Listen… the old bastard is going to…”  
  
“You always were one for sweet pet names,” Angelus said from the doorway.  
  
Spike bit his lip.  
  
Xander strained against his bonds. “Take a walk in the sun, overbite. If you hurt me Buffy’ll…”  
  
“What, kill me more?” Angelus hopped onto the bed hip-first. “No, I don’t think she’s given up on getting the love of her life back. Poor girl. What can you say? I’m gorgeous!” He shrugged.  
  
Xander seethed. “I never trusted you.”  
  
“I take it back,” Spike said, “You’re the Rhodes scholar of the scoobies.”  
  
Angelus clapped his hands. “I’d love to listen to the witty banter all day, but I have some torturing to do, and a lesson to impart. Spike, why do you suppose Xander is here?”  
  
“I figure he was put on earth to keep those Hawaiian shirt makers in business.”  
  
Angelus sighed heavily. His hand shot out, unerringly finding Xander’s balls and squeezing them through the bedspread.  
  
“Yeah, I get it!” Spike shouted as Xander howled.  
  
“So answer the question, William.”  
  
Spike was beginning to detect a not-too-subtle pattern to what name Angelus called him. “He’s the innocent lamb you can threaten to get me to behave, now I’m all soulful. But I told you…”  
  
“Don’t talk back.” Angelus warned.  
  
“I’m not like you. Not like the poufy wonder. Go ahead. Be violent. Doesn’t bother me.”  
  
“It bothers me!” Xander said in a weak, high voice.  
  
Angelus twisted and let go of Xander’s balls. The young man collapsed against the headboard with a gasp. Angelus crawled up to Spike, until he was only a hair’s breadth from touching him. “You don’t mind if I kill him? In front of you? Don’t mind another guilty weight on your conscience?” Angelus pouted.  
  
Spike tried not to look at the indignant face across the bed from him. Xander looked innocent, too. Even younger than Spike remembered, his body soft and his eyes wide, not yet hardened by life on the hellmouth. Spike tilted his head back, away from Angelus’ eager breath. “What do you want me to say?”  
  
“The threat worked, lad. It’s going to work again and again.”  
  
“No, it only works until you kill him. Which you can only do once.”  
  
Angelus’ smile got even wider. “We both know that’s not true.”  
  
Spike licked his lips. “What do you want, Angelus? Eh? What’s the lesson plan?” He forced himself to relax his shoulders, to lean forward. “Gonna show me it’s pointless? I already know what’s going to happen here. No matter what I do or say, you’ll torture, violate, and then kill him. It’s not anything I haven’t seen before.”  
  
Angelus leaned back and rolled his eyes ceiling-ward. “Wow. You really are no fun! Well, I just banged the stuffing out of your girlfriend, but I suppose I could use a little more sex to make the evening complete.”  
  
Spike turned his face away as Angelus neared, and got a lick on the cheek for his trouble. “Get him ready for me,” Angelus said, moving off the bed.  
  
Get him…? Spike glared at Angelus. “With my hands tied behind my back?”  
  
“Naturally,” said Angelus cheerfully. He went to the head of the bed and started adjusting the chains holding Xander.  
  
Xander looked frantically from one vampire to the other. “If this is one of those ‘freak him out so he’ll talk’ things, I have to let you know… I’m a talker. I’ll talk.”  
  
Angelus moved to Xander’s other side, loosening the chains on the headboard. Immediately the boy tried to slip loose, swinging a fist with what little range of motion he had. Angelus chuckled as though it was the cutest thing he’d ever seen.  
  
“He’s not interested in what you have to say, mate,” Spike said.  
  
“Is this some kind of bizarre vampire ‘good cop, bad cop’?” Xander twisted in place, trying to get at the cuff on his left wrist. “Because you know, that act’s almost as outdated as you two.”  
  
Angelus moved to the foot of the bed and, with one yank pulled Xander flush against the bed. Xander gasped. Angelus fastened the chains tight. “Get to it,” he growled, pushing against Spike’s back.  
  
Spike could see the unspoken, terrified “Get to WHAT?” in Xanders eyes as though it was written in thirty-foot neon. Spike shifted his knees back and lowered his head. Angelus adjusted the chain until Spike could just reach his face to Xander’s groin.  
  
Xander bucked against his restraints, smashing Spike in the nose. “Watch it! You’re not getting loose. Accept it.”  
  
“Get away from me you freak!”  
  
“Yeah, because this is my first choice.” Spike turned his head to the side. At least there were the bedclothes to be gotten out of the way. That should take a good long time by lip-power. Spike took a delicate bite of coverlet and tugged. Xander’s struggling made a slow job slower, which was all right with Spike.  
  
Angelus was checking all the chains. He stopped and smirked. “Oh. Didn’t want the boy to catch cold,” he said, and whipped the coverlet off the bed, nearly taking Spike’s teeth with it.  
  
“Oh god,” Xander rolled his head back and squeezed his eyes shut. His flesh pricked with the cold, goose-pimples raising fine hairs all along his legs.  
  
Nothing to it but to do it. Spike nuzzled his head between Xander’s bound legs, letting his tongue guide along smooth flesh to the puckered rosette. The moment he touched the more sensitive flesh, Xander’s whole body went rigid. Then he began to thrash and grunt. The grunts rose into a pained whine as Spike carefully breached him. There was no telling how much time Angelus would give, so he worked hard, with every ounce of strength he could muster in his tongue –which was not much, prodding and opening the boy.  
  
Angelus set his large hand on Spike’s back. “Are you getting him ready for me?”  
  
Spike wanted very much to rise up and ask him what did he THINK he was doing, looking for the candy center? But again, there was no time to waste. The old sadist would slam right home, he was sure, and there was no other way to spare Xander some pain.  
  
“It’s an awful tight little hole, isn’t it?” Angelus said, as if overhearing his thoughts. “I don’t want any discomfort while I’m sliding home. You know how I hate that. Maybe a little blood would help, eh?”  
  
Spike paused, digesting that little bit of threat, when Angelus shoved two fingers hard into his ass. He gritted his teeth and groaned against Xander’s thigh.  
  
“Ah, that’s better. Yes, let me get some of this where it’ll do some good,” Angelus said, crawling up onto the bed.  
  
Spike pressed his face tight into the yielding skin, willing himself not to vamp out, and partially surprised that after rimming Xander Harris he could still feel humiliated.  
  
Angelus was fully clothed – he could feel the fabric against his thighs. He heard the zipper. “You’ve stopped doing your chore, there, boy,” Angelus says. “Wouldn’t want me to have to punish you now, would you?”  
  
Spike licked his way back up Xander’s shivering thigh. “How’s this teaching me to be nasty, then?”  
  
“Patience, William.”  
  
“Well the least you could do is go get your old frock coat and dress me up like a choir boy for old time’s…”  
  
Angelus, true to form, slamed home without preamble. Spike did vamp out, nicking a slice from the crease of Xander’s thigh.   
  
It hurt. Shit it hurt. How did a body ever get used to this? Spike howled and, forgetting his own words to Xander not moments before, thrashed against his chains. Over the overriding pain, the jagged razor lines that ripped through his body, he felt Angelus gripping the chain that went from his wrists to the bed post, pushing down on it, forcing him to bow back. “Ah! That’s good. Much better when you can kneel up for me, boy.”  
  
Xander stopped moving, stopped making conscious sounds. He only whimpered and trembled, the barest movements of body and voice.  
  
Well, maybe he’ll finally relax, Spike thought. Going catatonic wasn’t the worst thing the kid could do. Grimacing against the pounding he was getting, Spike forced himself to relax, unvamp, and get back to work. He licked and nudged around Xander’s ass, though his tongue felt about to tear loose at its attaching points.  
  
“Here now, William, our guest isn’t enjoying this! Come on, give him a little treat.” Angelus grabbed Spike’s hair and shoved his face up, over Xander’s crotch, with no grace or thought to where he would land, or how hard. His cheek burned from hitting Xander’s pelvic bone hard. He could only imagine how the boy felt.  
  
“Go on,” Angelus said, in his smooth-as-silk voice. “I want him hard when I stick my cock up his ass.”  
  
Spike lifted his head with difficulty against the firm hand Angelus kept on the back of his neck.  
  
“No,” Xander said. “Spike… please… don’t.”  
  
Spike shook his head and went to work, lipping up the uncooked sausage and teasing some life into it. It twitched and filled, as it could only help doing. Xander was crying now; Spike could smell the tears. He took the half-hard cock into the back of his throat and swallowed around it as it grew, telling himself it wasn’t just to be expedient – it ruined Angelus’ view.  
  
What kind of lesson, what sort of soul-remedy was this, then? Spike was relaxing a bit, the pain dissipating as blood eased the passage of Angelus’ hard strokes. Soon, he knew, it would start feeling good, and his body would react. That’s what Angelus wanted – to show that even their own bodies were on his side, not theirs. This was not new. It was a hundred years from new.  
  
But it would take time. Spike squeezed his ass, bore down to awaken the pain. He would make sure it took time.  
  
Angelus groaned. “I know you want more, boy,” he thrust harder, “greedy arse that you have, but let up on your old sire.” With one more very hard thrust, Angelus suddenly pulled out.  
  
Spike froze. He felt Angelus step off the bed, his great meaty paw of a hand stroking down Spike’s back. “Let’s see how our boy is doing.”  
  
Spike didn’t move, so of course the large hand removed itself from his back and there was a violent jerk of the chain. He fell back against the baseboard as Angelus re-fastened the chain tighter. “Good lad,” Angelus said, as though Spike had obeyed of his own accord. He patted his shoulder. Spike vamped and tried to bite him.  
  
As Angelus slowly stripped at the side of the bed, Spike strained against his bonds. “What the fuck, Angelus? What are you playing at? You’ve got no grand plan. Think a hundred years saving puppies has taken you off your game.”  
  
Angelus ignored him. Once completely stripped, he settled between Xander’s legs. Spike had an excellent view of Angel’s strong back and tattoo.  
  
Spike wanted to save Xander from this. He thrashed even harder against his chain and when that didn’t work he twisted until he could get his legs in front of him to kick Angel’s large ass. There was no leverage, no momentum, but he landed a few loud, slapping blows.  
  
Angelus ignored him. He spread himself over Xander, arm to arm, leg to leg, and nestled his head against the young man’s cheek. Xander pulled as far away as he could, his neck strained with the effort of escaping Angelus’ gentle kiss. “Here now, lad. Are you afraid? Scared of how it’s going to feel when I rip into that virgin ass of yours?”  
  
“Rot in hell,” Xander said.  
  
“What kind of come-back is that? Honestly, Xander, I expected more from you.” Xander winced at the mention of his own name – a reminder that this wasn’t just some monster, this was a monster who knew him. “Where’s the ‘dead boy’? The clever insults?” Angelus kissed his cheek again and ran his hands up and down the boy’s forearms. “Tell me what you’ll do if I don’t. Tell me what you’ll sell. How about this? I’ll let you fuck Spike. He’s all loosened up now, but if you want we can wait for him to heal.”  
  
Spike halted his ineffectual kicking. “So that’s your game? I’m not going to feel betrayed by him, Angelus. Xander fuckin’ hates me. Always has. Souls don’t put us on the same team by default.”  
  
Angelus rose onto his hands and knees and thrust his cock languidly against Xander’s bare groin. “Oh, there goes Spike again, prattling on like it’s all about him. Tell me what you want, Xander. Ask for the right thing and I just might grant it.”  
  
“Let me go.”  
  
“Noo… not the right thing. Think, Xander. You have a mind, boy.” He brushed a lock of hair away from Xander’s forehead. “It takes a wicked intelligence to come up with the things you’ve called me. ‘Overgrown mosquito with a GQ fetish’ was one of my favorites. But when you called me ‘tall, dark, and dead,’ I knew you had yearnings, boy.” He continued his slow rubbing against Xander’s hip. “Let me hear what you come up with. If it’s really good, I won’t rape you. Tonight.”  
  
“Doesn’t matter what you say, Xan. He just wants to force some guilt on you. Don’t let him. Pain’s fleeting, Xan. It’s fleeting!”  
  
Angelus groaned and rolled his eyes. He turned to straddle Spike’s legs. “What will it take to shut you up? I’m having a moment with the boy.”  
  
“You’ve never shut me up. Doubt you’ll be able to start now you’re bug-shagging crazy and still got rat on your breath.” Spike sniffed the air as though testing a wine. “Or is that just you?”  
  
“It’s your blood you’re smelling on my dick. Why don’t you put that mouth to good use and clean it off?”  
  
“How about I don’t? You wide-arsed, pointy-haired, emotionally retarded, Manilo-loving…”  
  
Angelus scowled and backhanded Spike twice before he blinked. “Who told you about Manilo?”  
  
Spike licked the blood from his lip. “Lucky guess. It’s what all the squarest of the squares listen to.”  
  
Angelus squinted a bit, but then shook his confusion off. He wrapped his hands around Spike’s neck and forced him to bend it back, digging his thumbs into his jaw line. “Tell me what you want, Spike. And I’ll know if you’re lying because you’re crap at it. Do you want me to fuck little Xander here in front of you? Or do you want to bend over and let him learn the joys of your ass like so many, many men before him?”  
  
“Comes down to the same thing and you’re going to have both anyway.”  
  
Angelus sighed contentedly and smiled. “Yeah. I am.” He pulled Spike forward and kissed his forehead. “You know me so well.”  
  
Spike had a moment to blink and wonder how Angelus would proceed before he felt fangs rip into his throat, strong hands greedily kneading the flesh to make the blood flow faster. He felt strangled and shook with the panic of it, the smell of his blood filling the room.  
  
Angelus pulled back, his whole lower face messily smeared. “Good god what have you been eating, boy? You taste like pig.”  
  
Reeling from the blood loss, Spike’s voice came out barely a whisper, “Guess that would be ‘pig’ then.”  
  
“Something is not right with you, boy.”  
  
A dry, breathless chuckle. “’Sides the soul? You really are thick, ‘Gelus.”  
  
Angelus shook him. “Tell me.”  
  
“Right. I’m from the future. Come back five years to tell you there’s no hope, you’re getting your soul back. Oh! and you’re gonna gain weight too.”  
  
Angelus pushed off Spike, jumping to his feet. “Don’t play with me, boy.”  
  
“Yeah. Because now I’m a good liar, and I got a soul sitting on my arse in your guest bedroom.”  
  
Angelus gave him an inscrutable frown and wiped the blood from his chin. Licking his fingers thoughtfully, he walked out the door.  
  
Spike sank back from a tension he hadn’t known he was holding. The raw wound Angelus had left in his neck stung. He kept his neck tilted away from it. “Xander,” he whispered. “Xander, talk to me. I need to know… the judge is dead, yeah? Don’t… don’t say anything specific, he’s listening, even if he isn’t, but nod for me if the… if the spell’s being done?”  
  
Xander was staring at the ceiling. He licked his lips and shook his head. “I’m not here. That’s the only way this makes sense. But if this is a dream, I’m really worried about my sub-conscious.”  
  
“This is no time to take a trip down the rabbit-hole, Harris. The evil psychopath will come back any second. We have to hold out, you understand? Hold out for Red.”  
  
Xander raised his head, squinting. “Red? What?” He fell back. “I’m talking to the naked vampire. That’s my first mistake.”  
  
Spike bit his lip, wanting to say, “Willow, you idiot!” But what if that sent Angelus after the young witch?  
  
Angelus came back before he could come up with a useful way of asking what he wanted to know – how long has it been since the Judge was defeated? How long until Willow does her magic?  
  
Angelus was cleaned up, his hair wet and freshly combed. He was still naked. “You two will be the death of me,” Angelus said cheerfully, walking up to the head of the bed. He unlocked the chain.  
  
Xander immediately drew his arm in to his chest and twisted away from the vampire.  
  
Angelus sighed heavily and moved to the other side, undoing that shackle as well. As Xander scrambled to reach his own feet and hopefully undo the leg-irons, Angelus slid onto the bed behind the boy and wrapped him in a disturbingly affectionate hug. “Ah, Xander, where do you think you’re going? I let your arms free because I trust you… trust you to remember how easily I can put you right back.”  
  
Xander twisted in Angelus’ embrace, digging his fingers in to the meaty arms, trying to pry them off. “You sick, twisted…!”  
  
“Flattery,” Angelus said, nuzzling against Xander’s neck, he inhaled slowly, clearly savoring the scent. His hands roamed down Xander’s torso to his now quiescent cock, kneading and pulling it in a way that looked less pleasurable than painful. Xander shivered and stilled in shock. “I’ll give you the choice, now, lad. And I can keep going until one of you makes it. Use those hands.” Here Angelus paused to grab Xander’s wrists. He pushed his hands forward, until his knuckles pressed limply against Spike’s chest. “Use whatever you like. But fuck him. Or I’ll take over.” Angelus let go, one arm snaking around between Xander and himself, and Spike saw the boy’s eyes go wide.  
  
Spike closed his eyes. He felt trembling, sweating hands travel lightly over his chest.  
  
“What… what the hell do you want me to do?” Xander asked.  
  
“Maybe something like this,” Angelus’ voice was smooth, cajoling. Spike heard Xander’s breath catch and could only imagine what those large, skilled hands were doing.  
  
Xander’s hands passed down Spike’s torso, light as moth’s wings, not wanting to touch.  
  
“’Sokay, Xan,” Spike said, though he knew the words didn’t help.  
  
Xander moved hesitantly forward, partially guided by Angelus’ words and touch. “That’s it… such a good boy. I knew you had it in you, Xander. Put yourself first. ‘Course, it’s only Spike… but we can try this on one of your little friends next. Willow? Or Cordelia. Man, there’s a fine young thing. Just think what she’ll feel like under you.”  
  
Angelus seemed to be everywhere at once, arranging limbs with hand or knee. He pushed Spike’s legs apart and guided Xander forward. He was only half-hard, but there was still blood aplenty to ease the way. Spike concentrated on relaxing this time, not making it any more difficult than it already was on the boy. Soon his young, warm stomach was pressed tight to his own. Spike had to suppress a groan at the feeling of warmth, of smooth, strong flesh against him.  
  
“Beautiful,” Angelus said. “So gentle and surrendering. Both of you. Does it feel good? Giving in? Mm?”  
  
And then there was a hard jab, and Xander screamed, his fingers digging hard into Spike’s sides.  
  
Angelus laughed. “Oh, I couldn’t let you keep going all gentle and sweet like that. This isn’t a chick flick, people!” And then all was taken over by Angelus’ insistent thrusts and grunts. Spike struggled just to keep from being squeezed to death against the wooden baseboard – he could only imagine how Xander felt, helplessly sandwiched between them, taking all the force Angelus could muster.   
  
Should have been lecturing him on how to relax, Spike thought, on bearing down, on making it easier.  
  
Xander’s head flopped uselessly, he’d really given up on the assault, only flinching when he came close to the bite-mark on Spike’s neck, still aware enough to be repulsed by the fresh wound.  
  
It took forever for Angelus to complete. He took his time, shifting and stroking his hands over Xander’s shoulders and arms, muttering sweet obscenities, (“I can feel your heart beating boy… smell your blood… know no one else has been this deep before. You’ll never stop feeling me there.”) but finally his steady rhythm degenerated into a frantic gallop, and shuddered to a stop.  
  
“Ah,” Angelus sighed. He kissed Xander’s limp neck. “That sure clears the head.” He disentangled himself and Xander slumped, curled upon himself as tight as he could with his legs still chained to opposite bedposts. He fisted up the sheet and tried to draw it over himself.  
  
The chains holding Spike’s wrists suddenly released and he fell forward, landing awkwardly on top of the boy.  
  
“Fuck,” he scrambled to right himself, but his arms felt like wet spaghetti and trailed chains still.  
  
“Clean him up,” Angelus said.  
  
Spike twisted to see his grand-sire re-fastening the chains lower on the bedpost. “Clean him up,” Angelus repeated.  
  
“Or you’ll what? Bugger us both again?”  
  
Angelus smiled. “I don’t need to threaten you, Spike. I thought we established that.” He picked up a sketch pad and settled down in an easy chair. “Go on… lick him off nice and clean.”  
  
Xander was still trying to curl himself into the tightest ball possible and get the sheet up over himself. Spike reached to comfort him, to stroke his shoulder, but Xander only cringed away and the cold chains dragged over him.  
  
Spike bent to task, carefully, methodically licking the blood from Xander’s thighs. At least he was getting something to eat. It was cooling already, but tasted sweet, innocent and restrained energy.  
  
Soon the soft scrape of a pencil began, and Spike knew that for now, at least, time would pass peacefully.  
  
Slowly Xander let himself be turned and inspected and re-arranged. Spike stroked his legs and his sides until he stopped swatting his hands away.  
  
After a long silence, as Spike was finally done with the legs and moving his way very cautiously up, Xander asked, “Why don’t you just kill me? Isn’t that what vampires do? Kill people?”  
  
“Ssh,” Angelus said. “I don’t want to kill you, Xander. I want to take care of you. Teach you.”  
  
Spike lifted his head and translated, “You’re fucked.”  
  
The pencil-scratching stopped. Angelus stood and stretched, dropping his paper pad on his chair. “Time to go check up on princess. You boys get some rest. You’re going to have a very busy day tomorrow.”  
  
It was hard finding a place to lie comfortably with Xander’s legs cutting across all the available space and the chains falling inconveniently. Spike ended up curled between Xander’s knees, feeling cramped and too big for the space, using Xander’s thigh as a pillow. But the boy was warm. He couldn’t offer anything in return.  
  
Angelus left them long enough for Xander’s stomach growling to become a constant worrying claxon. Xander shifted and pushed Spike’s head off his thigh. “Don’t touch me! Evil dead thing!”  
  
“Good morning to you to, sunshine,” Spike grumbled, trying to find another way to lie.  
  
“What is with you? If you and dead boy aren’t friends, why aren’t you trying to stop him? Could you be a little bit useful? Like maybe PAUSE before you do every damn thing he says?”  
  
“In case you haven’t noticed, I’m chained up. And unfortunately I have experience here. Now listen. There’s a big statue-thing supposed to be unearthed. Really some sleeping demon. You heard of that, yet?”  
  
Xander blinked and for the first time met Spike’s gaze straight on. “You’re completely nuts.”  
  
“I wish. Never mind that. Just know, Red’s gonna get us out of this, yeah? It’s only a matter of time. We just have to keep him busy.”  
  
“There is no ‘us’ to be gotten out.” Xander kicked and squirmed again, trying to find a way to be not touching the vampire.  
  
And so they passed the day, waiting, forgotten, and uncomfortable.  
  
It was almost a relief when Angelus came back, stretching and unbuttoning his shirt as he walked in. “Time to play!” he called.  
  
Spike crawled up onto his knees and turned to face his grand-sire. “The boy’s starving. You can hear his bloody stomach in the next county.”  
  
“Well, we should give him something to eat, then,” Angelus let go of his shirt and started on his pants.  
  
***  
  
Spike braced himself on the bed, doing his best to translate the punishing force Angelus was administering to his ass to gentler strokes into Xander. When Angelus suddenly stopped, he assumed it was simply a premature orgasm and held still himself.  
  
Then the big pouf stumbled, and fell, fell on the floor and scrambled away from them.  
  
Spike pulled out slowly, crawling backward to look down at Angel, who curled in a ball on the floor, hands on his head.  
  
“Way to go, Red,” Spike sighed.


	3. Coda

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, here is a coda, epilogue, third part to finish out the request, and at least get all three of our heroes out of the situation I left them in.

Spike crawled as far away from Xander as the chains would allow. The young man, long past his catatonia state, was doing his own crawl to the other extreme of their bonds.

Xander wriggled, rubbing the moisture off his body onto the sheets – not that the sheets were any less cum-and-blood soaked than they were at this point. Spike looked to Angelus, saw him rocking slightly, a keening wail of “No, no no no…” coming from his barely-parted lips.

“Angel!” Spike said. “ANGEL! Damn it! We don’t have time for your breakdown. Xander needs you. ANGEL!” Spike jerked hard on his chains, causing the whole ancient bed to creak. “Angel!”

“What are you doing!” Xander kicked the sheets toward Spike. “Don’t get his attention!”

Angel raised his head.

Spike relaxed. “The chains. Angel… you got to get Xander unlocked and to a hospital. He’s still bleeding.”

Xander curled into a ball, hands reaching as far as bonds allowed to try to cover his head.

Angel stood.

“Yeah, that’s it you nancy. Come on, get it together. Unlock the chains. I got my soul back and crossed a bleedin’ desert the same night. You can walk five feet.”

Angel, naked, slick with sweat and blood, clenched his fists and lowered his brow. “Spike,” he said.

“Yeah? Haven’ a bit of amnesia?”

Angel dashed to the dresser and picked up a stake.

It’s a bad sort of vampire keeps a stake in his bedroom dresser.

Spike twisted, frantically looking for a defensible position. “Mate… don’t! Don’t! You’ll never forgive yourself.” He held a hand out toward Angel. “Buffy won’t forgive you.”

Angel stalked forward. “What did you do?”

“Been chained to this bedpost for a soddin’ week!”

“What did you do?!” Angel raised the stake.

“ANGELUS! Help. The. Boy.” Spike met Angel’s eyes, trying to pour every ounce of sincerity and innocence in his heart out through his eyeballs.

The stake descended. It was all Spike could do at the last moment to push it aside, the painful wood ripping into his chest a hand’s breadth from his heart.

Gasping, his own breath foaming pink around the wound, Spike wrenched the wood out. Angel didn’t stop him, his hand lingering forward, almost touching, as he asked in a soft, confused voice, “What did you do?”

Spike flung the blood-soaked stake across the room. “Kept you busy until Red could restore your soul. What did you think?” He gasped again, pressing his hand over the hole in his chest. “And when I say we’ve been like this a soddin’ week, I am not using that word idly, you fat sadistic sod. Now unlock us.”

Slowly, as though unsure how his hands moved properly, Angel reached for Xander’s chains and unlocked them. Xander responded by leaping off the bed, skittering to a corner of the room like a frightened cat.

Angel looked from the chains to Xander. “Xander…” he said.

“Get him to the hospital. Angel. Now.”

Angel looked down at his naked chest. After too long a consideration, he went to the closet and put on a shirt.

Spike leaned against the bedpost. “Where’s Dru? Mate, is Dru still around? Are you just going to leave me here for her to find?”

Hastily dressed, Angel scooped up a struggling Xander, and around the time Xander had given up and lay rag-doll like on Angel’s shoulder, Spike gave up on any hope of his re-ensoulled marginal sire doing anything to help him. So he just shifted against the foot-board of the bed, trying to get comfortable again.

And then Angel stopped in the door to the room, facing a very shocked Buffy.

A very shocked Buffy quickly turning into a murderously angry Buffy. “Xander needs to get to a hospital now,” Spike shouted, “let Angel through. He’s got his bloody soul back.”

Buffy’s brows lowered. “Is that Spike?”

“No it’s the bleedin’ tooth fairy. Angel! Go. Buffy – I don’t know where Drusilla is, so don’t stand there gawpin’ in the doorway when she could come up behind you!”

This only caused Buffy’s jaw to drop further. Spike gave an exasperated sigh and went back to nursing his chest wound.

“I have to go,” Angel said, without inflection. “Xander…”

“Xander’s naked!” Buffy gestured at him with her stake.

“Right.” Angel hurried back to his closet and, awkwardly juggling the unconscious teen, got Xander wrapped in one of his own shirts.

Buffy opened and closed her mouth and raised and lowered her stake. Angel glanced only briefly at her, lowered his eyes, and carried Xander out of the room.

“How about being useful and getting me out of this?” Spike asked.

“Spike.” Buffy stared at him – naked, disheveled, bloody. “My only interest in you is a quick dusty end.” She raised her stake in emphasis and paused as though looking for the right place to stab.

He laughed, a broken, hollow laugh with one hand pressing hard to the open wound on his chest. “No, love. I know you. Can’t stake me all tied up like this – it’s unsporting.”

Then, to Buffy’s supreme shock, he squinted at her with an expression of perplexed wonder. “My god but you’re young. Forgot… how young you were. Angelus is a right bastard, goin’ after a child like you.”

“Insults aren’t increasing your life expectancy, Spike, and I don’t believe that you’re all nice guy all of a sudden.”

“’M not nice. Sorry for being too scared to come to you, love. Shoulda done that the moment I turned solid again.”

Buffy shook her head in confusion. “You’re as nuts as your girlfriend. I’m leaving. Have a nice death.”

“Buffy wait!” He pressed to the limit of the chains. “I did what I could… kept the son-of-a-bitch busy so Red would have time to cast her spell. Now you gotta help me. I need to talk to Rupert.”

Buffy spun on her heel, halfway to the door. “How… how do you know my watcher’s first name?”

“Oh, love, the story’s so long we’d never get through it. But here’s the cliff notes: I got a soul. Know what stock you put in them. Angelus thinks Red zapped it into me by accident, tryin’ to get him. But that isn’t the case and I am a good guy now and if you don’t believe me just bring Rupert bloody well HERE and let me talk to him. An’ I’m telling the truth about Drusilla – no idea where she is. She’s dangerous. She’ll kill that Kendra girl. She did, last time. And let me tell you, Faith’s better off wherever the hell she is now, not dealing with being a slayer.” He sighed, shaking his head. “This is all coming out bollocks. Should have rehearsed or something… certainly have had the time, sitting here, starving.”

Buffy shook her head and ran from the room.

It was almost a full day later when Buffy and Giles came back together, both holding crossbows. Spike had managed to wriggle around onto his stomach on the bed, but the chains were twisted so all he could do at first was raise onto his elbows and nod to them. “Good to see I’m still trusted. Don’t suppose either of you has a blood donor bag hidden in a pocket? I’m seein’ spots I’m so hungry.”

Rupert Giles answered with tight lips, “Shut up, Spike. Buffy tells me you claim to have a soul now.”

“Yeah. Isn’t that the get-out-of-slay-free card?”

“This is no joking matter. You are going to tell us what is going on. What has happened to Xander?”

Spike made them wait while he un-twisted himself and ducked around chains to achieve a sitting posture again. “How is Xan? He okay? Captain Forehead was only feeding him a candy bar and a glass of water a day.”

“I believe I asked you a question.”

“What do you think happened to him?” Spike shook his head, already too tired and dried-out to even snarl properly. “You missed the blood, the chains? The BED? Angelus happened to him. Did what I could to help, which was worth sod-all. Too busy being insufficiently soulless for gramps. Poor kid’s gonna be scarred for life, unless we can make it so this never happened.” Spike looked up sharply. “There a chick named Anya hanging around, talks a little too formal?”

“He doesn’t know anything,” Buffy said. “I should have just dusted him.”

Spike coughed. “Would be kind, considering.”

Giles continued to frown thoughtfully. “You said someone named ‘Red’ re-ensoulled you.”

“Not named Red – RED. Willow.”

Buffy’s eyebrows climbed up her forehead. “Willow cursed you?”

“No,” Spike sighed. “Look, I don’t have a lot of energy left, right? Unless you want to continue this over a pint of O-pos, let’s cut to the chase. I made a wish. A stupid wish. I need it un-done. I’m not supposed to be here. This Anya bird… she’s a vengeance demon. Supposed to end up going to high school with you, Slayer. Heck, she ends up dating Xander, no accounting for taste. We just need to wait for her to show up and…”

“You’re just trying to get us to set you free. If Angel, even without a soul…”

“Time travel,” Giles said, his quiet voice somehow silencing everyone. He nudged his crossbow toward Spike. “You’re telling us you’re from the future.”

Spike fell bonelessly against the footboard. “’Bout six years. I’d tell you what happens, but you’ll just think I made it all up. Slayer’s life brings new definitions to the word ‘unpredictable’.”

Buffy was unconvinced. “Tell us something. Something to prove you became my friend. I must have told you things about myself you couldn’t have learned otherwise.”

“What? That’s not fair. I could tell you your NEXT boyfriend is going to be an even thicker block of wood than Angel, but you were never big on sharing with me. Rupes did tell me once about a concert he went to, Pink Floyd, back in the crazy Syd Barrett days. One of the only pleasant conversations we ever had. Remember that, Rupert? The concert, not the conversation. That didn’t happen yet.” He rolled his eyes at the absurdity of his own words.

“Lots of men my age had seen Syd Barrett in concert.”

“Yeah, but you were with that chaos-loving tosser Ethan, and you got high off your asses and tried to conjure some demon but only ended up making flowers grow in your ashtray.”

Giles lowered his crossbow completely. “It was the wastebin, not the ashtray. Oh good lord.”

Buffy shifted her weight. “Is that a ‘he’s telling the truth’ ‘good lord’ or a ‘shoot now, Buffy’ ‘good lord’?”

“He’s telling the truth. Let’s… let’s get him out of here.”

To both of their confusion, as Buffy unsnapped the cuffs, he suddenly barked, “I’m not sitting in any soddin’ tub!”

Later he drank a full mug of prime donor blood – even the gluey anti-coagulant couldn’t diminish his enjoyment – dressed in his own clothes again, and sitting in an uncomfortable wooden chair in the school library. Giles sat across from him, sipping tea that he could smell was spiked with whiskey.

Giles shook his head. “You could help us. Surely there are events in the near future that you remember that would be better off avoided.”

“You want Xan to go through the rest of his life remembering what Angelus did to him? No, Rupert. It’s gotta be this way. I don’t belong. I mean… how am I supposed to have won my soul if I’ve already got it?”

“I still can’t believe that you did that. Or that you and I are on a first-name basis.”

Spike looked away and muttered, “Told you. I was your flatmate.”

“Which still baffles me,” Giles smirked. "And Willow, not Jenny, cast the re-ensoulling curse. And why on earth did we trust a teenager over an accomplished witch?" Spike continued to avoid Giles' gaze. Giles sighed. He drew the amulet out of his pocket. “I suppose I won’t even recall this decision to regret it.”

Spike held out his hand. “Wish I could say the same.”

Giles snatched back the amulet. “Dear lord, if you’re going to continue to bandy about that word…”

“I mean, ‘It would be nice to say the same.’ Now give me the magic whatsit, Rupes, or I’ll remind you of more embarrassing stories from your past.”

Giles sighed, and Spike, already only half sure he was doing the right thing, broke his wish.

He woke in a dark, messy bedroom, the sounds of street noise and the half-blocked glare of street lights, plus that metallic something in the air immediately placed him in LA. He sighed and looked down at the sleeping demon secretary beside him. “When you wake up, pet,” he grumbled, “we are going to talk.”

END

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I think I know why I was so horribly dissatisfied with "Crawford Street Conscience":
> 
> 1\. I wanted to write something more lighthearted, more consensual porny threesomeness. BUT, I just couldn't make the characters do that.
> 
> 2\. I wanted to write a simple one-shot and then tried to force it to be just two parts. And it didn't quite fit even then, so the whole piece feels like it's been squeezed into a vise.

**Author's Note:**

> Requested by sevendeadlyfun on January 12, 2007.
> 
> "Season Two crazy Angelus kidnaps Season Two teenage Xander, all obsessed and porny. Time travel fun and Season 5 AtS soulful Spike shows up in the past. I'd like Spander, Spangelus, and Xangelus, possibly a lurid combination of all three. Spike can either save Xander or not, but he is as much Angelus' victim as Xander. No teaming the bad boys up. Angelus crazy, but loving the boys...sort of an "I only hurt you because I love you" thing."


End file.
